


Sweet as Summer Fruits

by greygerbil



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, first time sleeping together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-21 07:37:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19998277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: Salladhor wants to steal something and hires Davos to help, but they soon get distracted by each other.





	Sweet as Summer Fruits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jougetsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jougetsu/gifts).



“No wonder this way is hardly ever chosen by thieves.”

With the oar, Davos gently pushed off a sharp stone rising out of the water and ducked his head as the cave ceiling grew even lower. Salladhor followed his example, pressing against Davos’ back as he did.

“Since when have you turned to robbery on land, anyway?” Davos added. The question had weighed on his mind since this morning, when Salladhor had come to him with an offer of a bag of golden Lysene coins in exchange for transport through a cave that formed a clandestine back entrance to the lands of the lord of one of the tiny islands dotting the sea between Lys and Tyrosh.

“I take an opportunity when I see it,” Salladhor said with an easy shrug. “Careful now, I hear this tunnel gets as tight as a virgin down to the end.”

Davos did not dignify that comparison with a response and instead concentrated on keeping the boat from scraping up against the walls of the treacherous channel. Sunlight glittered on the water ahead of them now, filtering through a tangled, hanging overgrowth of some climbing plant that Davos had never seen before. He had to keep his hands on the oars, but Salladhor reached over his head to part the vines and thin leaves like a curtain.

The narrow brook under the mountains sprung from a clear lake fed by a stream that curled like a blue ribbon across emerald green meadows before it vanished into a forest. For a moment, Davos almost forgot to hold against the current. The small cove they had emerged into was breathtaking, with trees stretching high as towers into the sky, wearing blossoms in all shades of the sunset, so many that he could barely see the bright green leaves peak out between them. Dozens of water lilies shifted in the lake around them as he rowed them towards the bank, which was soft with thick bushels of reed and grass. He hid the small boat in the lush growth.

Salladhor was the first to clamber out, courteously offering Davos his hand after he’d jumped on the bank. Davos took it and pulled himself up. He had long grown used to the pirate’s charm being turned on him, and though he knew there was no sense in following the inclination that had built up in their scattered meetings over the last two years, he still allowed himself to enjoy it.

“It’s beautiful here.”

“Is it not? Especially after the dreary coasts of Westeros.”

Davos smiled. It was where he had just returned from last night, after smuggling crates of wine spiced with Naathian Dreaming Flower to the Night’s Watch. Salladhor always liked to complain of the cold weather and sparse lands in the west, especially when it was winter over there, but Davos’ first experiences as a boy on a ship had been sailing past the Neck, even beyond the Wall. He liked watching the shores of northern Westeros, their jagged lines, weather-beaten seaside castles, and muted colours, just as much as he liked the palm-studded islands and coast of Essos with their beautiful painted houses.

“They each fit their people,” he joked, following Salladhor up the grassy slope. “I am not out of place on the grey beaches of the North, and you so easily fit in with all of this colour and splendour.”

“Now that’s a compliment!” Salladhor exclaimed. “But Davos, my friend, you underestimate yourself.” He turned around and grabbed Davos’ hands in his own again, his fingers rough and warm. Looking up, Davos, as always, found it difficult not to note how Salladhor’s purple eyes contrasted against his rich brown skin, the blood of the Summer Islands and Old Valyria mixing in him to great effect. “It’s just those drab clothes you choose to wear. Put up your hair and stud it with flowers and wrap yourself in a proper robe, and you would be as pretty as any concubine from Lys.”

Davos only laughed at him, though Salladhor’s compliments always touched him just a little deeper than they should have. Idle flattery they were, of course, but the two of them had been giving that back and forth for a good while now and Salladhor was so talented at it.

“Is there not supposed to be a castle here that you want to steal from?” he asked, looking around. Though the trees were high, he had figured that a building like that would still be visible between them.

“I will show you.”

Salladhor kept hold of one of his hands in his own as he turned and Davos saw no reason to take it from him. To his surprise, his guide made very little attempt to conceal them as they walked on, even though the thick undergrowth would have made it almost too easy. To be sure, Davos heard nothing but the birds in the trees, but there had to be guards around if there were things worth stealing.

“It must be here, if the stories are true,” Salladhor said, looking up. “By the tree so tall it can look over the mountains to the sea…”

There were many tall trees, but one did indeed stand markedly higher than the others – although, as they approached, Davos saw that it was mostly because its long, thick roots were wrapped around a sharp cliff made out of a crumbling tower of cracked stone blocks. It took him a moment of gazing about them to realise they were standing in the ruins of some great, long overgrown building. The fallen walls formed the landscape of the forest around them, a rocky field stretching in all directions. He saw statues of dragons and manticores and mermaids, covered in round, cloud-white flowers Davos had never seen before and half-swallowed by grass and roots, the details of their faces smoothed by years of weather. He felt like he had stepped into an old tale.

“Here we are,” Salladhor said, grinning.

“Here?” Davos asked, pulling himself out of his reverie. “There is nothing here.”

“Of course there is! A castle, an old one, and all the beauty of Essos.” Salladhor waved vaguely. “The revered Lord’s actual castle is eight miles south and he never comes here. But he won’t let people see his island, either, though everyone knows it’s the most beautiful one for hundreds of miles. He keeps it guarded all along the southern banks, where the mountains don’t protect the island, like a miser sitting over his gold coin. People know all about it in Lys.” Grinning, Salladhor fell down on the back of a stone lion, who was in the fast grip of choking ivy, pulling Davos down with him. He ripped a bushel of golden sweetberries from the low-hanging branches of a tree, popping one into his mouth. “But he can’t keep Salladhor Saan out! If I want to spend a morning on his island in the presence of those dead Valyrian nobles, eating fruits with a pretty man by my side, then he’ll have to do more than tell me not to.”

Davos had to grin.

“You didn’t by any chance get into a fight with him, Salla?” he teased. His pride had obviously been stirred up by something.

“Not him... only his son who always streaks around the pillow houses in Lys,” Salladhor answered, holding one of the fat, ripe sweetberries to him. Davos tried to grab it, but Salladhor lifted his hand away and brought the berry to Davos’ lips instead. Davos took it carefully between them. “But I’m thinking that brat is arrogant enough to make me wish ill on the whole family,” Salladhor continued.

“Then you’ll need a souvenir from here to prove his rules don’t count for you?” Davos guessed, tasting the sweet, cold juice of the berry as it burst on his tongue.

“Yes. I shall take some of these winterdrops. They don’t grow anywhere else in Essos or Westeros that I know of.” Salladhor gestured towards the white flowers that studded the ruins. “Press them between parchment and have them put in a little glass pendant for me to wear around my neck and him to look at… I should like that very much.”

He plucked a winterdrop from between the lion’s paws and pushed it behind Davos’ ear. Davos let him do as he pleased, as he so often did these days. Salladhor always knew how to put a smile on his face. Very few people in their profession were both so successful and so likeable. Davos did not pretend to himself that Salladhor was a good man, of course; but then, he also had no such ideas about himself.

“That’ll be an expensive pendant, considering you will have to pay me for the journey.”

“Oh, I will also pay for the pleasure of your presence. After all, you would rather sail the coast of Westeros than be with me, and when I offered you my house last night now that you’ve finally returned, you rather slept in your little cockleshell of a boat,” Salladhor said, managing to look very insulted.

“You don’t need me at your house, it’s already full. How many concubines do you have there?” Davos answered.

“None! I promise you, I chased them all off to their other lovers.”

Davos only smiled, but Salladhor took his hand again and drew it to his chest.

“I swear to you. Come to mine tonight and you will see.”

“Why would you send your friends away, Salla?” Davos asked. “For what? You have as many men and women as you want in Lys, you don’t need me.”

Salladhor shrugged. “Why does a man who has two mighty ships not try to sail both of them at once, one foot on each? Because it’s impossible. I liked my playthings, but when you were gone, I realised I want you more. However, you wouldn’t have me if I didn’t give up on the others.” He huffed. “Of course, I must fall for such a staunch man! The people of Lys are much easier with their affections.”

Davos looked at him in surprise, his heart suddenly stuck into his throat. Salladhor would joke and cajole and tease, but he usually did not outright lie about such things to those he respected.

“Are you serious?”

“As serious as a dagger through a man’s heart, like the kind you like twisting so much in mine.”

Davos rolled his eyes and splayed his hand over Salladhor’s chest.

“I feel it beating still. I must not have a tight grip on the handle. But that is for the better, for I much prefer you alive.”

“Still, it is your responsibility to heal it.”

Salladhor sighed dramatically, but his white-toothed grin gleamed as he pulled Davos close and Davos allowed it, even as Salladhor leaned in and he could feel his warm breath on his face, the brush of his lips and bristle of his short beard before their mouths pressed together. 

Davos knew he should have leaned back and demanded that Salladhor show him those empty bedrooms first, for words were cheap and easily given; but the kiss tasted like sweetberries and Salladhor’s hand on his face was gentle and it was difficult to think past the surge of affection he felt. As like as not, he would just be pretending to himself that Salladhor Saan could ever let go off his distractions for Davos’ sake. Still, this sort of place, with the sun slanting through boughs heavy with blossoms and ancient ruins filling the air with old magic and the birds singing around them, was not a bad spot to dream for a day. 

Salladhor slid one hand down to the rope Davos had tied around his waist as his tongue pushed into Davos’ mouth and only parted from him to pull the faded woollen tunic over his head.

“Beautiful!” he declared. “Come, take off your breeches, too. I want to see you.”

Davos tugged off his boots and did as Salladhor asked. He might have hesitated more to expos himself in the stark light of the sun, but the atmosphere of this place, the forgotten memories hanging in the air, did not invite shyness. Salladhor looked like a Valyrian lord of old, dressed in extravagant, gold-threaded clothes, his purple eyes glinting with delight, and Davos could have been his chosen consort. He smiled at his own foolish thoughts.

“Here,” he said, when he was naked, spreading his arms as the warm sunlight burned down on the pale skin he usually kept covered. “I do hope you think it was worth all you gave up.”

He was not, despite all of Salladhor’s blandishments, especially handsome, Davos knew. He hoped he’d made the lovers he’d had happy, and he doubted anyone would turn away in disgust from him, but he was average, a sinuous, thin man with stark tan lines from the sun over the sea, his hands calloused from rope burn and splintered, rough oars, his manhood neither notably small nor big, sitting in a short nest of curls that was the same washed-out brown as the hair on the rest of his body and his head.

Salladhor jumped up to join him where he stood on the glade, drawing him into his arms with such reverence as if he had the goddess of Lys herself before him.

“I have never regretted anything less in my life,” he proclaimed, and Davos smiled and chose to believe him once more, leaning in to embrace him and kiss his neck, Salladhor’s skin sun-warm under his lips, tasting of the salty wind at sea.

He let his hands play through the folds of his elaborate robes, searching for the clasps that would part them, and when he had found them saw that Salladhor had chosen to forego underclothes altogether. Salladhor was a slim, lithe man, and his proudly displayed hedonism had not managed to cover up the hard muscle Davos felt on his chest and stomach. He let one hand drop between his legs to cup his balls and push his thumb up against his already straining manhood as he playfully nipped his collarbone. However, when he bent his knee to show him his appreciation, he felt Salladhor’s arms tighten around him, keeping him level for a moment before he toppled them both over into the grass.

“I will have your sweet mouth soon,” Salladhor promised, two fingers pushing between Davos’ lips, and Davos sucked them, excited to see unabashed lust on Salladhor’s face. “But I want something else now.”

He slid his fingers deeper into Davos’ mouth and Davos wet them with his tongue, knowing what was to come. It was not ideal, but he’d done this before, usually in the uncomfortable press of a hammock in some ship’s belly, when there was nowhere to get a bit of oil or grease. Salladhor pulled his fingers back after pushing them deep down into the soft back of the roof of Davos’ mouth, like he had been be thinking of having something else in there. He pressed his lips against Davos’ open mouth instead while teasing the soft skin of his entrance with his fingers. Davos lifted his hips, a sharp little thrust to urge him on. Salladhor laughed.

“Very good. I like my lovers eager,” he murmured. “So many of you Westerosi sailors are embarrassed to take it from a man. But you want my cock, don’t you?” One finger finally pushed into him and Davos felt his toes curl.

“Yes,” Davos said, and felt awkward that he could never think of clever, dirty words on the spot as Salladhor did, but it seemed that the answer was enough to satisfy him. He dragged his hand through Davos’ hair down to his neck, pulling his head up and letting it fall back over his palm to expose Davos’ throat, which he worked with gentle kisses and just a hint of teeth. Davos drew in air and released it in a shuddering breath, and Salladhor pushed his second finger in, teasing them into his writhing body.

Davos’ arm wrapped around Salladhor’s shoulders as he pulled him closer, spreading his legs so Salladhor could sit comfortably between them. With his free hand he reached between their bodies and took Salladhor’s cock in his grasp. The skin was wet, copious amounts of precome beading at the tip, and his hips twitched into Salladhor’s touch as he felt the hot flesh in his hand, knowing he would soon have this inside him.

“You can go on,” he murmured.

“Already? Oh, I could do this for ages…”

“Please, Salla?” Davos tried, and that seemed to do the trick, for Salladhor groaned and pulled his hand back.

“Tonight,” he promised him, before he spat in his hand and fisted his cock, “I will do everything you ever imagined and more. You won’t sleep. I won’t let you. I will have you squealing in my sheets until sunrise.”

Tonight, Salladhor would be probably be back with his concubines. Davos didn’t want to think of it now. He wanted to have him here, in his arms, in him.

Salladhor rocked slowly, gently into his body, though Davos felt he could have taken him quicker, for he was relaxed with Salladhor, happy just to finally have given in despite knowing better. Salladhor, breathing heavily, leaned back for a moment, taking Davos’ face in his hands. Davos turned his head to kiss his wrist.

“Move, pirate,” he murmured.

Salladhor’s hands were all over him as he fucked him. Davos had had a few lovers in his time, some better and some worse, but he’d mostly picked them up in taverns and aboard ships, and only a couple had done more than chased their own pleasure. Salladhor, however, seemed to know exactly where to stroke, touch, and grab him, like he had an innate sense for driving him mad. Davos heard his own breath quicken as Salladhor kept up a relentless pace that he matched perfectly with the strokes of his hand around Davos’ cock. He came shaking apart under him, gasping for air. Salladhor continued thrusting as if the spasms did not affect him at all, and Davos’ peak was drawn out, longer, greater for the force of his movements. Only when Davos had gathered himself again did Salladhor allow himself to come.

He settled down on Davos, his weight comfortable on top of him. Davos smiled as he saw that his feathered cap had slid off his head and picked it up out of the grass to put it back on his black curls. As Salladhor chuckled, Davos wished for a moment they could stay here forever.

-

They returned with an armful of winterdrops and sweetberries. By the time they arrived back in Lys, the sun was sinking behind the painted pillow houses and flowering pleasure gardens. Davos stooped to tie his boat to a wooden post sticking out of the perfect blue water of the haven.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked.

When he looked up, the expression on Salladhor’s face made him stop. He looked hurt – genuinely hurt, not in the way he usually would when he was hiding behind his exaggerated mannerisms.

“I thought you were coming home with me?”

“Oh – yes,” Davos said. That would make sense, would it not? But he did not want to put his happy fantasy to the test yet; he’d rather want to keep a good memory of Salladhor with him than deal with harsh reality tonight, no matter how many honeyed words Salladhor would find to explain it.

But Salladhor smiled when he agreed and he couldn’t disappoint him.

Davos followed him through the busy street to the two-story house he called his own. It was painted in blue stripes like the Lysene ships and a servant opened the door for them.

“I will put our bounty away,” Salladhor said. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Davos nodded his head as he watched him vanish in the direction of the kitchens and then glanced carefully around. It was strangely quiet. Salladhor’s home had ever been a hub for people to meet, at least three or four courtesans and enough of their friends always present. You could have easily mistaken it for a pillow house with the number of lightly dressed people milling about.

He knocked softly on the door to a closed room and opened it, then another. They did not look lived in, no one’s clothes and baubles lying about. On the second floor, he did not find anyone but a maid.

It did not really prove that Salladhor didn’t still have lovers, of course. However, if he hadn’t lied about this, if he had made such an effort to change, perhaps Davos should give him the benefit of the doubt for once. His heart was racing. He so desperately wanted to.

Davos heard footsteps behind him on the stairs. When Salladhor had reached the uppermost step, Davos turned and kissed him. Salladhor grinned.

“Here is your payment,” he said, holding up a small leather bag.

Davos put a hand over his.

“I may have brought you, but we spent most of our time there sleeping together. I don’t want your gold for that, I don’t work in a pillow house,” he said, smiling.

“Honour is a terrible trait for a business man, Davos, and a worse one for a criminal!” Salladhor declared.

Davos laughed.

“Come. You had some plans for us tonight,” he answered, taking Salladhor by the hand.


End file.
